One Night at the Eolian
by zantarak
Summary: Every night at the Eolian is a unique experience. Every night is someone new visiting with their own story. Sit and enjoy the tales of the far off.


The Masters have become the Students.

"Are you we're in the right place Elxa Dal?" said a great bear of a man. He wore dark purple robes. They were well cleaned, but still covered in the soot stains of his workshop.

"From what I heard of the student's gossip, yes this is the place Kilvin," said another man next to him. He wore his robes with comfortable relaxation. If not for his easy-going smile, then one might mistake him for a comically stereotyped evil wizard, so often found in bad Aturan plays.

"This place better be worth it; we paid a whole copper jot for coming in," said the final man with him. He wore dark robes like the others, but he also wore glasses and had only crinkled around his mouth and eyes. He looked like he could be most people's grandfather.

"Oh calm down Arwyl, let's go find a table. From what I've heard, the best place to listen to music is here on the first ring. So why don't you two find us a table, while I buy us the first round? Scutten good for you two?" Arwyl gave a small nod while Kilvin grunted. Elxa Dal ran off to the bar.

He waited patiently until he was face to face with a man with bright red hair. He reeked with charm. He gave an appreciative whistle when he saw Dal.

"Well, well, well…if I see this right, we have here a master of the university," the man held out his hand, "The name's Stanchion, and I am the fine owner of this even more fine establishment. What can a humble man do for such a powerful arcanist such as yourself."

Dal gave a hearty laugh and shook Stanchion's hand, "It's a pleasure Stanchion. Like all great faery meetings, I ask for three things; first, three mugs of scutten for me and a couple of my fellow powerful arcanists," they both had a small chuckle as Dal overemphasized the 'powerful', "two, a question, why in the world would the fine owner of an even finer establishment be working behind the bar. A man such as yourself must have a man to keep your bar or a barkeep as it would be. Finally, I would like to give you my thanks for saying arcanist and not a wizard. Not many understand the importance of such a distinction. I must ask, how'd you know the difference?"

"Well, I'll deal with the last two then get you your drinks," Stanchion said as he brought out three stoneware mugs, "Why am I behind the bar? It's been a hard winter, and most of my usual barmen and servers are down with a case of the flu. From what I hear a fair amount of them went over to your side of the river for help. Also, I know the distinction because one of my favourite musicians here threatens to start a fight every time I use the word wizard. I had to learn the difference, it was a matter of my health," Stanchion gave Dal a sly look, "Maybe you know this young musician. Goes by the name Kvothe," Stanchion said as he poured out three mugs of scutten.

Dal laughed long and hard as he paid Stanchion his price for drinks, "Oh I know of him, one of my top students. It doesn't surprise me that he would threaten to start a fight. His temper's as fiery as his hair. Do you know if he's here tonight?"

"Oh he never shows up this early, wait till later. He and his two usual companions usually swing by most nights. Hell, if you're lucky, you might even hear him play. Enjoy your drinks!" Stanchion passed three mugs over, which were almost overflowing. The smell was terrific to Dal. It wasn't often that he allowed himself to take a break. Always being told to worry about the University's reputation. Piss on that tonight though

Elxa Dal said his goodbye to Stanchion and carried the mugs back to his table. It took a bit of time to find the other masters, but see them he did. They drank their first round and discussed small trivialities amongst themselves. Who knew grown men would love to gossip as much as young women? They talked about issues with their peers (Many of which came from Master Hemme, or Master Hemlock as they like to call him), new theories in their field (Kilvin wouldn't shut up about his ever-burning lamp ideas) until eventually their talks turned to their students.

"I only wish that Re'lar Fela would be recognised for more than her beauty," Elxa Dal hands were wide open. His movements were perhaps a bit too extravagant, but also be fair he had been drinking a tad more than the other masters.

"This is true, from what Brandeur says she is exceptionally gifted at mathematics, and her sculptures are quite remarkable," Kilvin's face carried the natural Caeldish impassiveness.

"Not to mention what Elodin's been saying. Apparently, she's learned the name of the stone," Arwyl had only taken one drink. Ever a man of business, he had been watching the stage expectantly for talented musicians. They needed nothing less than the best for their gala.

"Fela might be smart, but…" Elxa Dal's head drooped. Kilvin gave him a slight thump over the head. He sprang back to attention. He held one hand in the air, "We all know of that student who rises above the others. The one that is all kinds of exceptionally clever!"

It must be remarked that at this time the three masters were starting to get stares from their compatriots of the first floor. Some tavern patrons even recognised who the men in the dark purple robes were.

Arwyl pulled Dal's hand down, "Hush! People are starting to stare!"

Kilvin nodded along seriously but made no move to help Arwyl.

"Why? Is someone insulting Kvothe? I'll have their guts boiled!" Dal said this last part a little too loudly. Those who were unfamiliar with the basic concepts of sympathy had open looks of horror as their heads filled with dark thoughts of dark magic. Those who knew how sympathy worked though were even more horrified. They knew that Dal could boil someone guts without even touching them. Kilvin chose this time to intervene.

"I would remind you, Elxa Dal, you are here as both a Master of the University and a well-respected member of the Arcanum. Would you please calm down before the constable decides to pop his head inside," Kilvin's eyes had a dark look to them. Dal sobered up very quickly indeed. He fell back to his seat and looked to the ground like a young child who had been caught with his hand in his mother's cookie jar. Many students simply ignored the masters. They knew the trouble they could get into by staring. Those that did could be excused, they were nothing but first-termers, they didn't know how things worked.

"Arwyl, have you heard any exceptional performers yet?" Kilvin asked. Arwyl shook his head slowly.

"Not yet, but they've been getting better as time's been going on. Blackened body of god, I wish we had some help with this," Arwyl kept one hand on Dal's arm holding it down.

"Help with what, the very drunk and very powerful arcanist, or finding a musician?" Kilvin had a small smile.

Arwyl smiled back, his face crinkling, "Both would be nice,"

"I have seen where our help shall come from! Kvothe over here!" Dal waved his free arm in the air. Where he was staring was a group of three boys. One had dark hair and a thick beard. He had the same impassive look that Kilvin did. That is to say, he was Caeldish. The other had sandy blond hair and a face that looked like it was used to smiling. At the moment, however, his mouth was open, and his eyes were bulging out of his head. The third stood in the middle. His hair was as bright red as a flame. He had a lute case slung over his back. His face was somewhere in the middle of his friends. He was shocked but hid it better. The group made its way over slowly.

"Master Arwyl, Master Kilvin, Master Elxa Dal, what may I help you with tonight?" the red-haired one asked. He voice was uncertain.

"Well," Arwyl said, "As it turns out we're looking for musicians. We have a gala coming up, and Chancellor Herma requested we get live music," Kvothe's face took on a puzzled look. He was a musician after all…

"We did suggest you! Right away actually! Unfortunately, Master Hemme threatened dark and terrible things if we picked you," Arwyl added quickly, "but if you would be so kind, we need advice for good musicians. All powerful we may be in a lab, or in a battle of the mind, weak we are in knowledge of the arts." Arwyl smiled sheepishly.

Simmon (the blond one) almost passed out then and there. Their esteemed teachers, true arcanists, we're asking for help to find musicians. Not to mention that one of them was unbelievably drunk (on the job to boot). Willem, (the caeldish one) grabbed Sim's shoulders to steady him. Kvothe looked to both of them for support. Simmon was still about to pass out. Wil just gave a small shrug.

Kvothe pulled up a chair.

"I guess I can provide my services for the night," Kvothe said as he sat down. Wil acted like a mother taking care of a baby. He put Sim in his chair and sat close by to make sure he behaved himself.

Kilvin nodded gratefully, "Alright, where do we start…" the bear of a master dropped off. The topic of performing arts made him uncomfortable.

"Well, the time is just right for the real musicians to start playing. Me, Wil and Sim usually just play cards to past the time.

"What would you boys say to a game of corners then? We can play for drabs," Arwyl asked slowly. He didn't know if this overstepped some student-master boundary, but he felt almost bad. They were forcing them to give up their evening to help them.

"Can you do corners with six people?" Willem asked slowly.

"I believe Master Dal is incapacitated, and I do not think Re'lar Simmon has the capabilities to play right now," said Master Kilvin. Kvothe looked over to Sim. His mouth was still open.

"Alright then," Kvothe took out his cards and started to deal. He was paired with Master Kilvin. Five hands later and they were up three drabs. Kilvin wore a self-satisfied smile, while Arwyl was fuming.

"Kilvin, I will beat you one of these days! Do you understand you barrel-chested snake?"

Kilvin shrugged nonchalantly as he shuffled. It was his turn to deal. Wilem and Kvothe were a tad surprised. Kilvin had started to pass out the cards when Stanchion walked out on stage. Wilem grabbed the cards from his hands, and Kvothe slapped Simmon upside the head. Simmon recovered quickly. When he saw, Stanchion standing up on stage he was sitting upright and attentive.

Arwyl tried to do the same with Elxa Dal. Elxa Dal was sluggish though and mumbling incoherent things about proper cataloguing. Wilem held his hand to his teacher's mouth. He held up a finger to his own.

Elxa Dal nodded slowly before sitting upright.

Stanchion waved to the crowd with one hand and gestured behind him with the other. A tall woman came out, her clothes were well-tailored, but not gaudy. Her stance was proud, but not arrogant. She carried a fiddle in one hand, and a bow for that fiddle in the other. She gave a small nod to the crow before she began.

The music was slow, almost agonisingly so. The notes rang low. It was so relaxing, people in the bar began to fall asleep. Only the nobles though, and the truly arrogant. The rest were thrust into a dream-like state. Kilvin thought he had started floating for a second. It was as if they were babies again, swaying in their mother's arms.

Then a crack, like lightning in a Summer Storm. The music became darker, and all thoughts a comforting dream were gone. Instead, lips were quivering, and eyes darted around as if only now realising how dark the corners were, and how those dark corners were nothing in comparison to the recesses of one's own mind. Later, some would think that it had begun to rain outside.

Then it stopped, and the woman smiled at everyone as she packed her fiddle away. Stanchion rushed around replacing candles. What seemed like a short dream had been so much longer.

Arwyl let out a long breath, "Teccam's bones, who in the world was that?"

Kvothe nodded, "That was Marie. One of the best fiddlers this side of the river," he allowed himself to smile at his teacher, "It's a different kind of magic, isn't it?"

Arwyl rubbed at his eyes, "I feel like I took a nap…and was woken just as I started to fall…"

Dal had taken to peering around corners, "My lord, is it like this every night?"

Wilem shrugged, "That depends on who's playing. Marie is a rare talent, but there are many here who simply play, and are enjoyable," Wil gestured dismissively with his hand, "Then there are those who play thinking they are talented. You will see many of the gentry try for their pipes here."

"Pipes? What do you mean?" Kilvin asked, his Caeldish accent coming in thick.

Simmon had finally recovered from his stupor and gave a boyish smile, "Pipes here is like a guilder back at the university. You have to earn them in performance, and only the best can get them."

"I believe we can assume that Miss Marie has her pipes then?" Arwyl asked.

"Yes, but I don't know if she'd be the best fit for a Gala. She's a traveller and a proud woman. I don't think…certain members of the Arcanum would be able to handle her."

Dal chuckled, "I thought as much. I guess it goes without saying that you have your pipes already Kvothe?"

Kvothe smiled sheepishly before shifting his cloak to show the silver token pinned onto his clothes.

"So we should be looking for someone who has their pipes then?" Dal asked.

Kvothe nodded the affirmative while standing up.

"Now, I am going to pay Marie a bit of respect and order her a drink. While I am up, should I get anything?"

Elxa Dal looked like he was going to ask for another drink when Kilvin's hand slammed down on his shoulder. Dal withered beneath the look. His head slumped. Simmon patted him awkwardly on the shoulder, unsure of how to comfort him. Arwyl snorted before saying that a round of beer would be much appreciated. He even gave Kvothe the money he would need, and a bit beside to pay his respect for Marie.

While Kvothe was gone, the table resumed its game of corners. Simmon became Kilvin's partner, and a couple hands later Kilvin looked ready to burst in anger.

Arwyl chuckled raking the cards in. He was up five hands and had finally beaten the hairy bastard. He allowed himself a manic grin.

Kilvin fumed, cursed in Sairu, and rounded on Simmon. Simmon cowered in his seat.

"Re'lar Simmon, I believe it would be prudent if you signed up for a class with Master Brandeur. Maybe Basic Statistics as a place to start," Kilvin said. Elxa Dal was laughing so hard he was pounding the table, while Sim looked pale, his eyes staring at the floor.. Wil's eyes were wide, but betrayed no other emotion.

What could one say when they saw their role-models drunk, being a sore loser, or paying for someone else's drink? Nothing really, and so we shall move on, and let the poor students try to recover.

It was sometime later before Kvothe returned. A serving girl followed with the round of beer, and at Kvothe's side was Marie, walking straight, but seemingly hesitant. Arwyl stood and offered his hand. Marie's eyes shone with trepidation, and it had been no small feat for Kvothe to get her to come over and thank Arwyl in person.

"Master Arwyl, this is Marie. As you may have heard, she is the most dazzling player within the next ten miles, present company excluded." Kvothe gestured to the woman, giving a bow.

It spoke well of Marie that despite her fear of the arcane arts, she still bowed low and was even able to grind out a sentence, "Hello, it is a pleasure to meet you."

"We are here to find musicians for a gala at the University. Would you know anyone who would be willing to come?"

Marie stuttered for a second before Kilvin harrumphed and dismissed her with a hand, "Forget it Arwyl, she's too weak to play for us. Not a brave bone in her body."

Students and Masters alike gaped at Kilvin's harsh words. Before they could speak, Marie responded, "How dare you? How am I supposed to react when you lot come across the river? I'll have you know I could fiddle at your stupid gala better than any, but I won't because you're an ass!"

Kilvin laughed, "You do have fight! Good, I knew Re'lar Kvothe would not bring you here otherwise," Kilvin offered his hand to shake, "I must apologise for my harsh words dear, I simply figured insult would be the quickest way."

That made Marie laugh, she took his hand in hers, "Fair enough. I must be going though, I have friends who are waiting for me, thank you for the drink though! I will see if I can find you, musicians!"

After she left, they drank and discussed. The Masters had a thousand questions for their students. Eventually, Kvothe left to find his friend Count Threpe, who would be able to provide them with the connections they needed. As he made his hasty escape, Simmon and Wilem looked at each other and rolled their eyes.

"Kvothe seemed in quite the rush to leave. Why is that? Is he really that excited to find his friend the Count?" asked Dal.

"No, he's just looking for a woman," replied Sim.

"Oh…"

The Masters asked no more questions. That was not their business. As they waited for Kvothe's return though, they listened to music. They noted down which performers showed promise and gathered what names they could from the students. Eventually, Kvothe returned and grabbed his lute.

"Please play it!"

"Shut up Simmon!"

Dal looked between the two of them, "Play what?"

Wilem jumped in at that moment, "Nothing good sir. Simmon is just an idiot!"

Before any more questions could be asked, the young student left for the bar. Now was not the time to be distracted, now it was time to play.

As Kvothe took the stage, the Master's quickly quieted down. They had learned the rule of silence when others were performing.

They all knew vaguely of Kvothe's skills. They had heard that he was good, but when he played, they finally understood. Everything that they had heard in rumour was nought but a pale illusion of the truth. They all took his music differently.

Elxa Dal was a young man again, he was learning sympathy for the first time. His joy and wonder were a thing to behold. He had found it, his calling, his reason for being. The music reminded him that real magic needed some naive belief.

Arwyl remembered the longest day in his life, a day when the Medica was full of patients about to die. He had worked from Dawn till Dusk working to save patients that others called a hopeless cause. He refused to give up and was rewarded for his perseverance. He remembered his triumph that day and was glad for the music.

Kilvin went to his future. He was an old man now, but still, his hands didn't fail him. Sitting a well-worn chair, there was a single light in the room. He had found it, his ever-burning lamp was complete. He passed away at that moment because he had fulfilled everything he had wanted to accomplish.

They came back to Earth when the song finished. It was the greatest dream, and now life would be a nightmare in comparison. They all knew who they wanted to play now. Damn whatever Hemme wanted to say, Kovthe was playing at the gala.


End file.
